Heart Beat
by RazzlePazzleDooDot
Summary: Tadashi didn't know what he expected to feel when he saw his own name on the headstone. In the distance he could hear cars pulling away on wet pavement, heading to the reception at the cafe. He could still catch up with them if he wanted to... (or, Tadashi does what he feels he must to keep his family safe. Hiro will not agree. Alive!Sunfire!Tadashi)


**Heart Beat**

Chapter 1 (prologue)

...

It rained the day of Tadashi Hamada's funeral.

The young man stood aways off from the cemetery, in the shelter of the trees where he was pelted by fewer raindrops. They spilled between the leaves erratically, mirroring the tears of the attendants at the sad event. He imagined the poor weather couldn't help the mood of the mourners either way. In fact, it was worse when it happened on a sunny, clear day, like when his parents died. The day of their burial was bright and cheerful as though his world hadn't crashed and burned with the car that took his mom and dad from him. As though it was any other day, when it obviously wasn't. How could the sun shine and the birds sing and the earth keep turning when his world had changed so suddenly, so permanently, so much more like a nightmare than reality.

He hoped it was better this way. That like the rain, the tears of his loved ones would dry and they would heal and be stronger and shining again without him. His heart ached to see them cry, even from a distance. Nonetheless he forced himself to stay through the whole ceremony. If they had to bear this then he did too.

Aunt Cass spoke. He couldn't hear her words but he watched with a growing pain in his chest and she stood and took the front. After only a few minutes she had to sit down again, her face in her hands as an uncharacteristically-gloomy Honey Lemon guided her gently to her seat. Wasabi said a few words too, being the friend among their group who'd known Tadashi the longest. From the teary smiles in the crowd, he guessed they were hearing some of their old stories to lighten the mood. By the time his speech ended, the young man in the shadows was fighting tears with the rest.

The time came to lower the casket. Having found no body, it contained only a jar of ashes from the remains of the Showcase Hall.

How had things gone so wrong that night? It was meant to be filled with celebration and pride and excitement for the future. And now...

The young man's eyes fell on the littlest figure at the funeral.

The teen was small in general but with the lost look on his face he had never seemed more vulnerable. His eyes were almost unrecognizable like that, devoid of their lively spark. Instead they were wide and glassy, watching the proceedings without any reactions at all. No tears. No sad smiles. No acknowledgement to the condolences he received. He barely moved even as his aunt hugged him to her with one arm and sobbed quietly. His gaze was stuck on the picture frame beside the casket, no doubt holding a photo of the deceased. He stared and stared, looking more like a broken doll than a grieving boy. The only emotion that differentiated him was a tinge of confusion. He looked as though he were any other 14-year-old right then sitting in a difficult math class, listening to the professor go on and on while he tried to understand where he'd gotten lost. Wanting and yet not wanting to speak up to ask for a break, to stop everything and slow down and go back over it again. Drowning in the equations that made no sense, that would never make sense.

But Hiro Hamada was not any other 14-year-old boy. He had never worn that expression before, least of all about math, and seeing it on him now was the most painful blow yet to the onlooker. He wanted to turn away but he made himself watch, choking, until he had the heartbreaking look burned into his memory. _My fault._

The skies were clearing by the time the last chair was packed away. The group that had huddled under black umbrellas was gone, heading back to their homes to mourn out of the way of the wet grass and misty air. It was then that the figure from the trees approached the gravesite.

Tadashi Hamada didn't know what he expected to feel when he saw his own name on the headstone.

He knew the spot in the cemetery well since he had visited his parents many times there before, but never in all his imagination did he expect to visit _himself_. He knelt and ran his fingers along the engraving slowly, feeling like a ghost in the wrong time and place.

 _Tadashi Hamada_ , he read along. _Loving son, nephew and brother. He will be missed._

Unable to take the rising sense of surrealism anymore, he jerked back, standing and pulling his jacket closer around him. In the distance he could hear cars pulling away on wet pavement, heading to the reception at the cafe. He could still catch up with them if he wanted to.

Tadashi closed his eyes tightly for a moment, fighting with himself. Flames danced before him in his mind, mocking him. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

He turned and left.

* * *

 **not sure where I'm going with this but. i was just sitting in the car earlier admiring the sunny day and i thought to myself what if i just.. wrote this… and i did. true story.**

 **ideas plz?**


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